


Sansaery Oneshots

by TaraTyler



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraTyler/pseuds/TaraTyler
Summary: Oneshots, Drabbles, and Fanfics about or relating to the relationShip of Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark





	1. Chapter 1

“Margaeryyyyy!” Sansa bellowed; skidding to a stop in the foyer of her girlfriend’s gigantic manor home.

She was dressed in only her housecoat as all of the servants had been sent home for a winter break. Only a few days before; in preparation for a Christmas party, the hardwood floors had been polished. Ever since... Sansa had been going a little bit nuts. Ned Stark had banned sock skating early on at Winterfell House when Robb and Jon were younger. It had never stopped any of them, but it was good to be able to do it without the fear of getting in trouble. 

“Sansa? Is everything okay? What’s going on?” Margaery asked distantly, her voice echoing back to Sansa down a long hallway.

“I neeeeed you!” Sansa yelled back, her words followed by the light tinkling sound of her happy giggles.

Margaery shook her head to herself. “What could that girl possibly be up to now?” she asked aloud, even though she was alone. In fact, it was only the two of them in the manor at all. The place was theirs alone for the rest of the week. Renly Baratheon had swept her brother Loras away for a vacation to some other country with beaches where they could work on their tans.

When Margaery found Sansa, the younger woman was spinning in place. Brilliant red hair was springing loose of a bun and she was smiling so brightly that it could nearly have burned Margaery’s eyes. Sansa cut it off, mid-spin and abruptly when she saw her standing there.

“Dance with me, Margaery.” Sansa ordered, extending her hand and bowing from the waist like a true gentle-lady. “This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here, and I need you to dance with me.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re kind of a gigantic nerd?” Margaery asked with a shit-eating grin.

“Only at least once a week, my dear.” Sansa shrugged as she reluctantly allowed Margaery to take the lead.

“It’s a good thing that I love you then, isn’t it?” Margaery asked.

“It’s the best thing.” Sansa agreed, hiding her face in Margaery’s shoulder as they slid across the floor...still without any music to dance to.

“I never did things like this until I met you, you know.” Margaery said softly, her worn college sweatshirt not doing much to stave off her shiver as Sansa’s cold hands landed on the small of her back underneath the shirt.

“I do know. You were kind of a real stick in the mud. I think that I’ve made real progress in that respect though. Having fun is more important than you know, my girl.” Sansa reached up and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone.

“There are none quite so fun as you, are there?” Margaery asked. “You’ve taught me so much more besides just fun. You have to know that you are more than just a good time, Sansa.  
You taught me to see the joy in the little everyday things. You’re pure fire and light; bringing everything around you, and even me to life.”

“Yeah, I guess that I’m pretty okay then, aren’t I?” Sansa asked. She wished that she could see herself the way that Margaery did. Sansa just didn’t get it, didn’t see it, but that could be okay, just so long as she had Margaery to remind her.


	2. Queens of the North

Sansa’s body took longer to adjust than she had thought it might. When she had asked her younger sister to teach her some self-defense, Sansa hadn’t expected the goal to involve so much getting up before the sun each morning. By the time the other lords and ladies were up and awake, Sansa was already clean and washed after having been tossed around in the mud. Arya was surprisingly proud of her elder sister. During council meetings, she couldn’t see but barely a hint of the soreness she knew her sister felt.

After a particularly terrible council meeting, in which Sansa had been forced to really put her foot down, she returned to her chambers with full intentions to sleep for at least another hour. She blessed the gods profusely when she found a tub of steaming water waiting for her. “Margaery.” she murmured to herself as the older blonde around the corner with a gracious smile.

“It looked to me like you might need this.” Margaery said by way of explanation. “You handled those stubborn old men like the true Queen of the North you are.”

As she spoke, she stepped around behind her wife and began to unlace the viciously tight corset.

“You know I have ladies whose job this is, my queen?” Sansa asked, a small smirk tugging at her lips as the combination of thick furs and silks fell from her shoulders.

“I do know, but would you really wish to deny me the simple pleasures?” Margaery’s voice went low as her nails gently trailed down the line of Sansa’s spine and across her shoulder blades.

“I would never dare, my lady.” Sansa whispered.

Her father had once told her a true king or queen did not have to constantly remind subjects they were in command of the room. Everyone should know by the way they carried themselves and the way they spoke. Sansa had not been the Stark child Ned had been speaking to or about but she had absorbed his every word anyway.

Somehow she had learned from her lord father all she had needed to handle the kingdom she had been handed. Still, the reverse was true within Sansa’s chambers. When she stepped in, the staff was dismissed, and the double doors shut, Sansa seamlessly relinquished her control to Margaery at least for a few hours.

“Your sister has been training you too roughly, my rose.” Margaery murmured, her fingers skimming lightly over the knots and bruises that littered her pale wife’s skin. She offered Sansa a strong hand as the younger woman stepped into the bath and sank into the water.

Margaery moved a stool behind Sansa and began to unplait the strict braid used to keep her fiery red locks in line.

“This is something I have to do for myself, love. I need to be stronger and Arya can give me the power to get to where I need to be.” Sansa said firmly. “You can’t convince me you don’t appreciate some of the other visible benefits.”

“You have me caught, my queen-wife. I have always loved the natural curves you have possessed, yet there is a newfound confidence and fire you have developed since you accepted the Lady Arya’s offer of tutelage. There is some other evidence I may admire, but never forget which of your aspects I find the most attractive.” Margaery spoke in a special tone of voice that always coaxed Sansa into relaxing. She gently pulled a brush through Sansa’s hair and massaged rosehip oil into the Queen of the North’s scalp.

Sansa didn’t have a glimmer of an idea of how her life had turned around so quickly. She’d gone from a prisoner forced into the world’s worst marriage to the Queen of the North; in command of an army willing to fight and die in her name. Sansa wanted to be strong in her own right though. Her heart and mind and soul had been fortified; now she had set to work on her body. Sansa was proud of herself.

“Margaery, would you say I have changed in the time you have known me? Am I still the scared little girl you first met in the Red Keep?” Sansa asked without opening her heavy eyes. Margaery’s hands felt magical in her hair and against her scalp as she worked her way through thick red hair and down the back of Sansa’s head and neck.

“That is… a very complicated question.” Margaery began. “You are the same person, though now you are a woman as opposed to a girl. When first we met, I could see the potential for this woman in you, though the circumstances and the expectations placed upon you had buried her for quite a long while. Whilst I would never wish the tribulations you suffered during our time apart upon anyone, they have brought all of your strength and your inner Stark’s wolf to the surface.”

Sansa could hear Margaery choosing her words carefully and appreciated it. They rang true for her as well. Sansa doubted she would ever have gotten to this point on her own. Arya had told her as much as well.

“I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone else either. My sister and I have become wholly different people, but we are the only survivors of the true Stark line and there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.“ Sansa’s voice always became very grave when she spoke of her house. Margaery had come to love the moments when she would speak so earnestly; especially once she had become a Stark herself. The Tyrell family had been more business-minded whereas Margaery had quickly found the Stark’s to be house-minded and proud. She appreciated it more than she had ever expected to.

“There is something in regards to the family line I have been hesitant to discuss with you. It’s a rather sensitive subject but it has weighed heavily on my mind for some time.” Margaery’s voice was wobbly and drew Sansa’s attention immediately as she stood from the tub; drawing a towel around herself as she turned to meet her wife’s eyes.

“You know that of all people, you may speak to me of anything that may cross your mind. You are my wife and I love you, please never be afraid to bring a concern to my attention.” Sansa seemed to be startled by Margaery’s prior hesitance to speak up.

“No, my love. It isn’t anything such as that. I was referring to the continuance of this house, or rather what you feel best we should do as far as having an heir to Winterfell… and your throne.” Margaery’s tone was still rather uncertain and pained but Sansa could see that her words had filled their purpose and her wife was no longer frightened by Sansa’s potential reactions.

“I have been putting some thought into this matter as well, but first, I would like to hear all of your concerns and ideas. I would not want mine to color yours at all. You tend to be much more clever in these regards than I am.” Sansa replied. The soft smirk of a smile Sansa offered Margaery made the older girl’s heart grow warm.

“We could use a surrogate, which… well, you would know what it requires. The option I prefer is adoption… we pick up an orphaned child and raise him or her as our own.” Margaery said calmly, her heart racing more than Sansa could have ever guessed. Margaery could feel her pulse in the tips of her fingers and her cheeks.

“That’s along the lines of what I was feeling, though I would like to bring the matter before the council and more specifically my sister before we come to a final decision.” Sansa said warily, but a smile pulled at her mouth she couldn’t hold back. “Either way, and no matter how… Margaery, we’re going to be parents.”

A smile broke out across Margaery’s face like nothing Sansa had ever known. Sansa had thought she’d known every smile her wife had in her arsenal but this was something altogether different and unique. This smile looked like someone had brought the sun out to shine through the other woman’s face. Sansa loved it and loved Margaery that much more. She had always known Margaery’s deepest desire was to have children but had never been able to fulfill it.

The part which struck Sansa the most was Margaery throwing herself from the stool and into Sansa’s arms. She clutched at the damp, wet, and red locks with both hands and Sansa let herself fall backward; taking Margaery’s weight down with her. Sansa cupped the older woman’s face in her hands, brushing over Margaery’s cheekbones with her thumbs. She kissed the other woman gently and softly, leaning up against her wife and feeling all of the places where their curves pressed together. Sansa kissed Margaery like she never wanted to stop.

Margaery was smiling so hard she thought her face might break apart. Despite that, she couldn’t keep herself from returning each of Sansa’s fervent kisses with equal amounts of enthusiasm. It was happy kissing and filled with laughter; the two women blushing from their ears and down their chests. The laughter bubbled up from deep down inside of them. Margaery hadn’t ever met anyone as wonderful or giving or generous as Sansa Stark. She couldn’t imagine a world without her wife.

“You are everything I could ever possibly have asked for, my wolf. You will be an amazing mother to our child however, we may come by one.” Margaery combed her fingers through Sansa’s long red locks, she was much more attached to Sansa’s hair than she had any real right to.

“I know this is everything you’ve ever wanted and I am so glad to be the one who gets to do this with you. Yes, I am rather afraid that I won’t be any good, but together I know we will be amazing parents. I can do or be anything at all as long as I’m with you.” Sansa said evenly, gazing evenly into Margaery’s eyes as they parted and continued to gaze at one another.

Margaery didn’t have the words to articulate how she felt in that moment listening to Sansa talk about them raising a child together. She could picture it so clearly, the two of them together with a baby. Margaery could see the shock of red hair on the little round head, or the strawberry blonde running under everyone’s feet and getting everyone into trouble. The looks of their children or whether they were related by blood or not, didn’t matter to Margaery. She would love their child nonetheless.

“We’re going to be mothers, Sansa.” Margaery said as she rolled to her wife’s side and looked into those gem blue; glittering more brightly than the clearest lake on the Tyrell land.

She kissed Sansa again, pulling their faces together joyfully. Her wife glowed with a sense of calming peace, a more subdued kind of joy that balanced perfectly with Margaery. Sansa kissed her back reverently as she always did, like she was a supplicant at the Church of Margaery, looking for her prayers to be answered. She pushed up onto her forearms and stared down at Margaery evenly, the softest and most loving smile pulling unconsciously at her lips. It was Margaery’s most special and treasured smile, the one Sansa saved solely for her wife.

“I love you, my rose.”

“And I you, my Queen.”


	3. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off of the song by Jim and the Povolos

Until Margaery saw that red hair flying down the hallway, shoes clicking on the stone floors, she thought everything was still held together. All of the pieces fell apart when she saw fear in Sansa Stark’s eyes. Margaery called out after her, Sansa startled and whirled around on her with a spin of her skirts and a squeal. She had known that their time together was going to be limited. Margaery should have known they were nearly out of days. What was the point of being queen when she couldn’t protect the one person she loved most in that terrible place?

Relief visibly flooded Sansa when she saw Margaery was calling out to her. She stopped and ran into her friend’s arms. Margaery could feel the taller woman shaking against her and hated whatever made Sansa so upset. She squeezed her tightly, hoping to stop her trembling and reassure her. For such a tall woman, Sansa felt small in her arms, and Margaery hated the helplessness emanating from her friend. Sansa had always been proud and carried herself as though she were already royalty.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going? Why are you running?!” Margaery asked, pulling back away from her and searching Sansa’s face for answers. She was even more pale than usual. Her cheeks were pink, but the area around her mouth was an unnatural blue-ish white.

“He’s gifting me to the Imp. The Lannister Imp. The Queen Mother has pronounced that I am no longer accepted her in the castle. I believe deeply that I will not live long enough to be given away. He says this to me, though my father’s head used to stand on a pike before the castle.” Fury shook Sansa’s voice. “So, I’m going to flee. I am going to find my brother and if the gods are kind, find out what has happened to Anya, if she still lives. I’m sorry, Highness, but I really must go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Margaery agreed immediately, understanding that Joffrey was just as likely to have Sansa killed as he was to marry her off to Tyrion Lannister. Margaery had grown to love Sansa and Sansa alone of everyone in all of King’s Landing. She wasn’t about to allow anything to happen to her. “Follow me out towards my chambers.” Margaery grabbed Sansa’s hand and led her back the other way towards her own rooms.

Margaery dismissed her guards with a harsh word and dragged Sansa into the chamber after her. Dropping Sansa’s hand and locking the doors behind her before flitting around the room and shoving things into a knapsack. Margaery grabbed gowns, travel clothing, and jewels. Margaery pushed the bag towards Sansa and then stepped purposefully towards one of the walls. She shoved a tapestry out of the way to reveal a door.

“You do not have to go. Stay with me, Sansa, and I will protect you. No one in this wretched place will ever hurt you so long as you remain by my side.” Margaery said, her voice impassioned, one hand holding tightly to Sansa’s upper arm. The queen’s voice was nearly desperate. She did not want to lose the only person she had ever truly loved. Blue eyes sparkled sadly back at her.

“Highness, love of mine, you must know I have to go. My very soul is crumbling to dust in this place. I miss the snow and Winterfell and the North. Tonight is the night, Margaery my Queen.” Sansa told her, with more strength in her voice than ever, though there was still trepidation. Margaery was impressed. “There is still an option you have yet to take into account.”

Sansa slung the leather knapsack over one shoulder and extended a hand to Margaery Tyrell. Sansa blushed even harder, but she shimmered with hope and vulnerability. Sansa believed that they had missed so much time together and she didn’t want to waste miss any more time. Not one more night apart. Sansa couldn’t find the r words she needed so she hoped Margery understood how she felt.

It was quite clear to Margaery that she would not be able to stand life in the capitol without the woman she refused to refer to as her mistress there alongside her. She felt as though the life there would feel completely listless and dark. Margaery took Sansa’s hand, then pulled it back. She could see Sansa’s heartbreak in her eyes. Light filled them once more when she witnessed her lover, the Queen, remove her wedding band and abandon it upon the dresser beside of the hidden passage behind the tapestry. Margaery retook Sansa’s hand.

Light suddenly flooded Margaery’s life again.”You know that I am the queen. I can not just leave.” her voice broke as she protested, but only held Sansa’s hand more tightly.

“It won’t be all bad, Margaery. They would have to get through the entire Army of the North, the Wolf of the North’s army, to get to either of us. We would be together and nothing is better than that.” Sansa said, her voice hoarse but earnest. “I know that being Queen is your dream. What I know is that I want the two of us to be together. None of our time together is time wasted. If we can live together, love together, and die together, then I will consider my life well lived. I had no chance of resisting you.”

“You haven’t left me a choice, have you?” the frightened young woman rushed to pack a second bag of supplies, cursing herself the whole time for allowing herself to fall in love like this, for having chosen this. Sansa had not been a part of her plan. Then again, what else could she do? There was so much more for the two of them to see and to do together.

“This isn’t going to be easy, my love. I just… I can't imagine what life would be like without you. We might not make it far, but I say we ought to try and not stop until we make it through to Winterfell. Any time we have together, I will consider a blessing.” Sansa stopped the fluttering, nervous queen with a grasp of her shoulder, her thumb digging into Margaery’s collarbone. She pulled Margaery in and kissed her hotly. Sansa felt for a moment that if they kept this up, the Red Keep would burn down around them, before fleeing.


End file.
